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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29693832">Canvas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyevanston/pseuds/AvengersCompound'>AvengersCompound (emilyevanston)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Paint, Come Shot, F/M, Painting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Smut, Vaginal Sex, messy sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:35:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29693832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyevanston/pseuds/AvengersCompound</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has been painting you for a while.  In a lot of ways you’ve been his must.  This time, he has decided to use a whole different canvas to practice his art on.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Canvas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>The brush was soft and tickled your skin.  Paired with the cool, wet paint, it set off a ripple of goosebumps in its wake.</p>
<p>Steve was an artist.  You hadn’t known that when you’d first started seeing each other.  The serious and stoic Steve Rogers who had devoted his life to protect the world as Captain America didn’t seem to be the soft artistic type.</p>
<p>He had surprised you though.  First with the fact he wasn’t as serious as he made himself seem when he was in uniform.  He was funny and snarky, and he cared deeply about people.</p>
<p>And he liked to paint.</p>
<p>You’d first discovered his artistic side when you’d woken up to find him sitting on the end of the bed sketching a picture of you sleeping.  There was a way about Steve - an open vulnerability - that meant he could get away with doing things like watching you sleep that didn’t feel creepy.  There was something romantic about the way that he wanted to capture the moment.  Not with a camera to show how it was, but with a pencil to show how it made him feel.</p>
<p>Since that day he’d gotten more and more into his art when he was around you.  Your place and his became littered with sketches and drawings, mostly of you, but sometimes just of things that made him feel real.  Not the symbol of America, but a real man who wanted a quiet life with someone he loved.</p>
<p>When the painting started, you would sit for him.  You were his muse and when you would sit for him, you’d find yourself holding all kinds of unlikely positions, in a variety of different states of undress.</p>
<p>It was a strange feeling being his life model.  Sexy.  Uncomfortable.  Flattering.  Safe.  The best part was seeing the finished product.  It was like getting to see yourself through the eyes of the person who loved you most and there was nothing more intimate than that.</p>
<p>Today Steve was interested in a different canvas.</p>
<p>You stood naked in his home office, a drop cloth below you to capture any stray drops of paint.  Steve had his shirt off too, and there were already a few smears of paint on his perfectly sculpted chest.  There was something sexy about the look.  Like the mess made him seem raw and unbridled in a way Steve rarely was outside of sex and battle.</p>
<p>The brush moved down and around the curve of our breast in a long sweeping motion.  You shivered as the cool of the paint sent a tingle up your spine.  Your nipples hardened and you weren’t sure if that was only because of the cold.  Steve’s eyes drifted from the line of his paint to your breasts and his cheeks turned slightly pink.  “Is it very cold?”  He asked.</p>
<p>“It’s cold, but I’m not sure that’s the whole problem,” you coyly answered.</p>
<p>The blush deepened in Steve’s cheeks and his tongue glided over his plump bottom lip.  “Mm… for me too,” he said and leaned down, pressing his mouth to your breast.  Your nipple fit perfectly between his soft lips, and as his tongue swirled over it, you let out a sharp breath.</p>
<p>“Steve…” you sighed, your hand going to his shoulder to steady yourself.  He sucked on your tender flesh, his tongue curling around your hardened nipple, and as he pulled back, his teeth grazed over it, making a buzz spiral out under your skin.</p>
<p>He returned his attention to his art, leaving you trembling slightly from the brief interlude.  You blinked and shook your head as you tried to focus on the art, rather than the heat building between your legs.</p>
<p>You watched as he added some black to the blue he was painting on your skin, darkening the shade as he filled in the color under your stomach.  “What are you painting?”  You asked.</p>
<p>“You’re just going to have to wait and see,” he said.</p>
<p>“It’s not a flag, is it?”  You asked.  “I don’t want you to paint me to look like a flag.”</p>
<p>Steve laughed softly and shook his head.  “No.  It’s not a flag.”</p>
<p>He dipped his thumb into the purple on his pallet and ran it down between the two shades of blue on your stomach.  It tickled and you squirmed away from him a little.</p>
<p>“I need you to try and stay still, sweetheart,” Steve said.</p>
<p>“You try it when someone’s doing this to you,” you teased, and poked him in the abs.  He jumped away with a laugh.</p>
<p>“That’s cheating,” he said, grabbing your wrist.</p>
<p>You giggled and he kissed your hand before letting your wrist go again.  His fingerprints remained on your skin.  Blue spots to mark where he’d held you.  You studied them as he returned to painting.  Admiring the way they marked how easily his large hands wrapped around your wrists.</p>
<p>You took one of Steve’s spare brushes and dipped it into the red paint.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?”  Steve asked, raising his eyebrow though he didn’t look away from his work.</p>
<p>“Thought I’d do a little bit of body painting too,” you said and pressed your red palm against his chest.  When your hand left his body, the perfect impression of your hand was left in scarlet against his pale milk skin.</p>
<p>Steve’s lips quirked at the side and he shook his head.  “Very pretty,” he said.  “Shall I give you one?”</p>
<p>“Won’t it mess up your design?”  You asked.</p>
<p>“I can paint over it,” he said as he began painting his palm with purple paint.  “Where should I put this?”  He teased, waving it in front of you.</p>
<p>You squealed but your body seemed to curve toward him like it was aching for his touch.  He hovered his hand over your breast.  “Here?”  he whispered and watched as you shivered slightly, pushing your chest out toward him.  He licked his lips and moved his hand up to your neck.  “Maybe here?”</p>
<p>You swallowed thickly.  “Please?”</p>
<p>He moved his hand down around your waist and smacked it down on your ass.  It was firm and made a sharp crack as his skin met yours, but it wasn’t painful.  You gasped and he dragged your forward, his fingers digging into your ass.  “Here?”  He said, bringing his lips to yours.</p>
<p>You kissed him hungrily, his other arm curling around your waist.  You moaned into his lips and pressed your body against him.  You could picture the mark on your ass.  His large palm staining your skin purple.  His hands slid around your waist, smearing the paint as he moved them, leaving a wet trail up to your ribs.  His fingers tightened and he pushed you back against the wall.  You submitted to him, melting under his touch.  His hands gripped your chest just under your breasts and he dragged them up, breaking the kiss so he could lean down and suck your breasts.  You let your head fall back against the wall and wrapped a leg around him, pulling your bare cunt against his clothed crotch.  His cock was hard and strained against the thick fabric of his khakis.  You cunt smeared your fluids on his jeans as the friction drew them from you, sending a hot tingle spiraling out through you.</p>
<p>He sucked and bit at your breasts like a hungry man.  Dutifully moving from one to the other and back again, sending a dull ache down to your core.</p>
<p>“Steve,” you moaned.  “I need you.”</p>
<p>He groaned and spun you guiding you back to the tarp and knocking his paints to the floor so they splattered over the drop cloth.  He lay you down, ignoring the paint as it pooled around your body.  You put your hands in the wet mess and watched as he hurriedly unfastened his pants.  As he positioned himself above you, you spread your legs wide and wrapped your arms around him, welcoming him in and marking him as your own.</p>
<p>He was kissing you again, hard and passionately.  You matched him, bringing your tongue to meet his and swirling it around.  He lined himself up and with a hard thrust, he was inside you.  You gasped arching up into him as an eclectic pulse passed through your body.  He didn’t wait for you to adjust, he just began thrusting into you again and again.  The head of his cock hitting your cervix and sending sharp jolts through you again and again.</p>
<p>You cried out and bunched your hands in his hair.  The paint on your hands clung to the strands, sticking them together and making them stick up in clumps.  You could feel your climax building, and you nudged him.  He took the hint flipping you over.</p>
<p>The paint you’d been lying in dripped down your back onto his thighs.  He smeared his hands through it and then used it to finger paint on your body as you rode him.  You started slowly, swirling your hips like you were doing a seated dance, his cock moving inside you and pressing against your walls.  You began to move faster, bouncing on his cock.  Steve groaned as he watched you, his hands caressing his body.  Faster and faster you moved, up and down, up and down.  Sweat mixed with the paint as you chased your orgasm.  Steve began to snap his hips up into you, your bodies slapping together each time you connected.</p>
<p>He pushed you back, first so you were seated face to face, you sitting in his lap, and then pushing you back on the floor again.  He pushed your legs up so they were pressed against your chest.  His cock penetrated you so deeply you thought it was going to split you in two.  You cried out and your orgasm hit, shuddering through you and making all your muscles seize up.  Steve kept thrusting, fucking you through it, and as he reached his own climax, he pulled out pumping his cock in his fist and releasing, spattering your stomach and chest with thick white ropes that stood out against the rainbow of paint.</p>
<p>You lay back panting as you came down from your orgasm high and Steve lay down beside you.  “God, you’re beautiful,” he sighed.</p>
<p>“We ruined your art,” you said, looking down at yourself.</p>
<p>“I think we made it better,” he said.  “I know I’m going to remember you like this for a long time.  My gorgeous artwork.”</p>
<p>He brought his lips to yours and kissed you deeply and tenderly.  You closed your eyes and hummed, relaxing into it.  When he pulled back he smiled at you.  “We really should go shower.”</p>
<p>You giggled and Steve helped you to stand.  He looked down at the drop sheet below him and smiled.  “I think I might frame that,” he said.</p>
<p>You looked down at the colors.  They swirled together, but you could see everywhere the two of you had touched.  You liked the idea of hanging it in the apartment.  A permanent reminder of what you and Steve had.</p>
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